


a new beginning

by linderella



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Sam Needs A Hug, Sam Wilson Birthday Bang, flower shop au, jody is sam's NIECE in this, natasha and sam friendship, riley has passed away, some lying, steve is a ball of sunshine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 22:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20897411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linderella/pseuds/linderella
Summary: “So,” The guy says, tapping his fingers on the counter. “Here’s the thing. What if I told you my  name was Riley?” He smiles so that the corners of his eyes find their way to a crinkle,  and Sam does everything in his power not to let his jaw drop.When he does compose himself, Sam tries to hide his surprise and tells him, “Well, then this bouquet would be free.”





	a new beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was a treat to write! Thank you so much to Laisha for creating this gorgeous piece of art for this fic: https://www.flickr.com/photos/184795432@N07/48839203706/in/dateposted-public/ . Make sure to give them a follow at @laishamackie on Twitter!! <3

Sam’s always liked meeting other Rileys. 

It had become a hobby that had developed when he opened the flower shop in the first place, looking for something to make it unique. He’d been sitting at lunch with his sister, going through a list of duds. She shook her head.

“I’ve got it,” She smiled. “Give out free flowers.”

Sam rolled his eyes in spite of her. “Giving away free stuff is an awesome business strategy. Thanks, Sarah.”

“No, listen to me.” She huffed, ripping out a free page from Sam’s lined notebook. “Here’s what you do to reduce the cost. Put a sign outside your shop that says “Free flower if your name is Jenny!” or something. I’m telling you. People love stuff when it feels like it was made specifically for them.”

The idea stuck. Of course, when it came time to pick the name that Sam wanted to appeal to most, there had been a lot of debate. Sarah had suggested he choose a name that would appeal to as wide a demographic as possible, like Emily. Of course, it was never much of a competition for Sam. Sam had built a cheap sign in front of his little corner flower shop, sitting outside on opening day and placing the letters carefully to read:

Free flower if your name is Riley.

*

Sam had met a lot of Rileys in the year and half his shop had been running. It was an interesting way to advertise and catch people’s eyes, because it meant that almost all of his regulars were named Riley. 

There was Riley Connaker, who was constantly bringing home flowers to his wife so that he wouldn’t stay in the doghouse. There was Riley Johnson, an old woman who had a love for lilies. Of course, there was Jack Riley, who had insisted that his last name counted for free roses. 

Sam’s personal favorite customers, however, were the fresh faces who would walk in and introduce themselves as Riley and pick out a flower. They were usually children and teenagers, carefully selecting their single flower with a smile on their faces. Sam had gotten interested in flower meanings once he’d opened the shop, so sometimes he would suggest flowers depending on who he met.

One woman had come inside and introduced herself as Riley. Her dark hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back. Sam had suggested a calla lily to her, keeping to himself that the flower symbolizes beauty.

When it was time to close up for the day, Sam would take a flower of his own for his own Riley. He’d try and pick a different one every time, careful not to choose flowers that he felt like had not-so-nice meanings. He’d wrap it up and drive his typical commute home: down 23rd street, left at the pharmacy, to the cemetery, and back home.

He’d leave the flower on Riley Carmichael’s gravestone, his Riley. He would never linger for long, just leave the flower and head home for the night. He liked to think that Riley would somehow know what Sam wanted to say based on what flower he left. That’s how he liked it. That was the easiest way for him to say those things.

When he had first gotten home, his therapist had tried to break the Riley barrier. Sam wouldn’t budge. He didn’t like talking about Riley with anyone anymore. It hurt too much. Finally, his therapist had suggested that he find some way to remember Riley without talking about him. This was Sam’s way.

*

For a split second, Sam thinks that the man walking in the back of his shop is Riley Carmichael. It scares the daylights out of him, feels just like he’s seen a ghost. After a moment, the panic subsides. This man is taller than Riley, his hair longer and jaw more square. They share the same golden hue to their hair, but this man’s is longer and just flops over his face. Not to mention his horrendous sideburns.

When Sam approaches him from behind, the guy nearly jumps out of his skin. “Jesus,” he gasps, covering his chest to feel his beating heart. “Sorry. You scared me.”

Sam quirks a smile. “Sorry. Didn’t consider how many threats you’d be watching out for in a flower shop, huh?”

The guy shrugs his shoulders. “You’d be surprised.”

There’s a bout of awkward silence, the guy staring at the buckets of flowers in front of him with so much intensity Sam thinks he might light them on fire. He clears his throat.

“Do you need help with anything?” Sam asks him, looking around the room. “I’ve been told I have a good eye.”

The man nods, flashing a toothy grin at Sam that makes his heart do somersaults. “Yeah, I...don't have any clue what I’m doing.”

“Who are you shopping for?” Sam asks him, trying as hard as he can to hide the intent of his words. “Wife? Girlfriend? Mom?”

“No!” The man exclaims, almost a bit too enthusiastically. “No. I’m just...buying something for my roommate. She’s one of those people who look hard on the outside but have a soft inside...if you dig deep enough.”

Sam nods. “I know exactly what you mean.” His mind immediately jumps to his sister Sarah, her leather jackets and crew cut. He thinks of her sitting on his couch, crying over The Notebook (not as hard as Sam, but he’s not sure that’s exactly possible). “What’s your relationship with her like?”

The man smiles fondly. “She just...gets me, you know? It’s like we share a mind. She’s got this way of knowing what’s good for me and has no problem telling me when I’m wrong. It’s like having a sister, but without all of the bickering.” The guy pauses. “Well, some of the bickering.”

Sam smiles sadly to himself, thinking about Riley for only a moment. Of course, it subsides (it always subsides) and Sam gets back to thinking about all the flowers they have in the shop. He reaches into a bucket to the man’s left, pulling out a full hydrangea.

“In case you were wondering,” Sam twirls the flower stem between his thumb and index finger. “These little guys are used to mean gratitude for being understood.”

The man takes the flower from Sam, examining it. “I think this is perfect.”

They end up creating a small bouquet of hydrangeas and a few other flowers, chatting about the weather and work while they assemble it. Sam learns the man is new around here, that he’s a veteran, and also that he has a thing for Thai food. Some things that Sam learns on his own are that he has a cute furrow in his brow when he thinks and that he must know he’s good looking because the shirt he’s wearing has to be two sizes too small, and that he’s just tall enough that Sam could comfortably rest his head on his shoulder.

Once they’ve arranged the bouquet, Sam brings the guy up to ring up for his purchase. He waits as Sam calculates the final total, leaning against the counter. He’s actually quite the talker once you get him going. Finally, he clears his throat.

“Hey,” He says like he’s just remembered something. “I was going to ask. What’s the deal with free flowers for Riley? Is that your girlfriend or something?”

Sam bites back a laugh shaking his head. “Jesus--no. It’s my boyfriend’s name.”

He doesn’t know if he’s imagining it, but Sam could swear that the man almost looks disappointed. Suddenly, he kicks himself for saying that. 

Before he can stop himself, he adds, “Former boyfriend? Is that what you call it? We’re not exactly exes."

He nods silently, and Sam can’t read his expression. “Oh, sorry for asking. I hate breakups like that.” This man probably the most genuine guy that Sam’s ever met, his big blue eyes oozing sympathy. Sam decides there’s no reason to keep this going, so he pivots.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ve done the therapy thing, moved on, we’re good.” He coughs into his hand. “Your total comes out to $13.20.”

“So,” The guy says, tapping his fingers on the counter. “Here’s the thing. What if I told you my name was Riley?” He smiles so that the corners of his eyes find their way to a crinkle, and Sam does everything in his power not to let his jaw drop. 

When he does compose himself, Sam tries to hide his surprise and tells him, “Well, then this bouquet would be free.” 

The man--Riley--smiles bright and toothy in Sam’s direction. He shakes his head. “I’d feel guilty just leaving without paying you at all.”

“Yeah, well, it’s store policy pal. You’re taking those flowers free of charge.”

“Thanks for your help.” Riley smiles. He seems like he wants to say something else, but just awkwardly stares back at Sam. Sam would normally feel strange, but Riley is just...so good-looking. He doesn’t really mind having one last moment to admire him. 

Riley abruptly turns on his heel, walking out the front door to the shop, letting the bell on it ring as he walks out. Sam watches the door for a moment, thinking about Riley one last time before accepting he probably will never see him again. He turns around and goes to water the flowers.

What are the odds that that guy was named Riley? Not exactly low, considering the selling point of the place. But Sam lets his mind wander as he lets the water go. All of his regular Rileys are little girls, old women, a married guy. He’s never met another Riley that he’s been attracted to before. Is that wrong? Sam doesn’t know. 

As Sam nearly loses himself in thought, the bell on the door rings again. Sam turns to look over his shoulder to see Riley, panting like he’s just run a marathon. Sam raises an eyebrow at him.

“You forget something?”

Riley shakes his head, but then nods. “Yes! Well, no. I mean… yes, I did, but not your fault or anything. I just forgot to give you this!”

He waves a twenty, and walks forward and stuffs the bill in Sam’s tip jar. His hand is so large that he has to position it in just the right way to make sure that he can get his hand inside. He takes care to place the bill in the jar. 

“You’re very generous,” Sam replies, smiling. “You didn’t have to.”

Riley runs a hand through his golden hair. “Don’t mention it.” He salutes in Sam’s direction, sloppily and not at all the salute Sam would expect from a veteran. Before Sam can say anything else, Riley is gone.

*

The rest of the day goes by as usual. A few new Rileys come into the shop, they both leave with pink roses, per Sam’s suggestion. He tries to close up a little quicker than usual because Sarah is waiting for him to come over for dinner and he still needs to stop by to visit his Riley. Sarah lives in the opposite direction of the cemetery, so he’ll need to make it fast.

He counts the money in the register, makes sure that the flowers are at the right temperature. Once he’s locked up everything else, he dumps out the tip jar on the countertop. The crumpled bills scatter across the countertop, a few pennies and quarters as well. Sam notices Other Riley’s twenty right away, smiling as he remembers. When he goes to pick it up, a small slip of white paper falls onto the ground.

Sam bends down to pick up the paper, and notices the message written in neat lettering:

I was too chicken to ask you for your number.  
Here’s mine if you’re looking for anything interested.  
678-136-7092

* 

Visiting His Riley’s gravesite has gotten a lot easier with time, especially since Sam goes every day. He usually stops by and drops off whatever flowers didn’t sell for the day, always making sure to switch them out with the ones he brought last. Sometimes, if no one is around, Sam lets himself talk to Riley like he used to, casual. He still misses that way Riley would listen to him talk. He supposes that Riley listens just as well, even now.

Tonight, he simply leaves behind some peonies and doesn’t bother telling Riley about his day. He’s in a hurry to get to Sarah’s place, and he feels...weird telling Riley about what happened at work today. Even though, rationally, Sam knows Riley would want him to move on. But that doesn’t make it easier. 

It’s cold enough outside that Sam decides after a few minutes, it’s time to leave. As he drives to Sarah’s, he thinks about the man he’d met at work earlier. He doesn’t know if he wants to text him, doesn’t know anything.

It’s not like he hasn’t dated since what happened, but he hasn’t liked anyone in so long. Tinder dates usually ended in mindless hookups, and Sam has sort of come to understand that maybe there really isn’t anyone else in the world for him except Riley Carmichael. So, why bother trying to date again? What’s the purpose?

Sam gets to Sarah’s apartment only fifteen minutes late, thank you very much. Of course, when he knocks on the door, Sarah swings it open with a death glare that might as well have meant that Sam was 2 hours late. She’s wearing ripped jeans and a yellow t-shirt, and she rolls her eyes.

“You’re late!” She informs him, spinning on her heel and heading back into the kitchen. Sam catches the door and follows behind her, still wearing his coat. “Bullshit. It’s fifteen minutes.”

Sarah quirks an eyebrow from where she’s standing at the stove. “I’ve come to accept that you’ll never be on time for anything.” Sam laughs at that, because she’s completely correct. Just as he does, he hears someone else sprinting into the room, and before he can even turn to look at her, she’s jumping onto Sam’s back.

“Uncle Sam!” Jody cries, hugging his neck from behind. Sam cranes his neck to look at her and nearly bursts into laughter when he sees her happy face. 

Jody climbs off Sam after Sarah gives her a look, and Sam just kneels down on her level and smiles at her. She’s wearing Buzz Lightyear wings over her clothes from school, her hair styled in two little puffs on her head. Sam, of course, knows what she’s waiting for. 

“Can I help you?” He asks, just to play with her. She rolls her eyes at him--eerily similar to Sarah--and taps her foot.

“You know how.”

“Ah,” Sam says, like he’s just remembered something important. “Right. How could I forget?” He reaches into the pocket of his coat, carefully a small plastic box. Normally, he uses them at the shop to store corsages for high schoolers going to prom, but it works perfectly for his special gifts for Jody.

Inside, of course, is a small clipping of a flower. Jody doesn’t mind that they’re usually whatever he has leftover, as long as they’re pretty. She snatches the plastic box from Sam, eyes full of wonder. “What’s this one?”

Sam smiles at her. “A peony. One of my favorites.”

Jody thanks him and goes to put it in their refrigerator like she always does, to help it last a little longer. Sarah sighs when she does it, giving Sam a smile but also shaking her head. “You know, normal people have food in their fridge.”

*

Jody goes to bed after they have dinner (which, in typical fashion, is completely dominated by Jody talking about her day). She takes a bit of convincing that bedtime is actually good for her, but once Sarah is finally sure she’s asleep, she smiles at Sam mischievously.

“Well, shit.” Sam groans jokingly. “I know that look. That means you want to get me drunk and force me to tell you all my secrets.”

Sarah barks out a laugh, but no less pulls out two wine glasses from her cabinet. “You know me too well. But, in my defense, it’s sort of your own fault that you refuse to tell me anything about your life.”

“And,” Sam replies, leaning against the countertop. “It’s good for you that I could use a drink tonight.”

Sarah smirks at that, filling Sam’s glass with crimson red wine. When she hands it to him, she raises an eyebrow in question. “Why do you need a drink? Something happen at work?” Then, she looks serious. “Fuck, did that weird-ass lady come in again asking you if you sell lawnmowers? I thought you kicked her ass to the curb.”

Sam laughs, shaking his head. He returns to the couch in Sarah’s living room they’d been sitting on, leaning back and taking a sip of his drink before saying, “No lawnmowers.”

Sarah joins him on the couch when she’s filled her own glass, sitting with her legs crossed. “Alright, so what?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “You’re interrogating me before your truth serum has even taken effect. I thought you were smarter than that.”

Sarah laughs, but still waits for Sam to tell her what he’s been hinting at. For a moment, he thinks he will just change the subject and they’ll get in a heated debate about the last Star Wars movie, but a voice in the back of his head that sounds strangely like his therapist pushes him to talk to Sarah about what he’s feeling.

“A guy gave me his number today at work?” Sam tells her, and it comes out open-ended like he’s not really sure. Sarah gasps as soon as he says it, noiselessly fist-pumping into the air, as to not wake Jody. Sam rolls his eyes. “Oh my god.”

Sarah sets her wine down, leaning forward with bright and mischievous eyes. “Please tell me you texted him.”

“No,” Sam replies, and when Sarah sighs in exasperation, he flops back onto her couch. “Listen--I haven’t decided if I’m gonna message him. I don’t know if I’m...ready for this. How does someone know if they’re ready?”

Sarah shrugs. “Is anyone ever really ready?” She has a point. “Anyway, listen. What if it’s fate?”

Sam scoffs at that, pausing to take a long sip of his wine. Sarah’s always been sort of superstitious; Sam’s not exactly the analytical, no-nonsense type, but he doesn’t really believe in fate, especially nowadays. If fate was real, he didn’t really want to think about what sort of things he did to deserve his own.

“There’s sort of...another component to this.” Sam starts, fiddling with a tassel on the pillow he’s moved to his lap. “He came into the shop...because his name is Riley.”

Sarah’s laughter and happy demeanor softens into something more compassionate. Sam lets his eyes fall into his lap, sort of embarrassed. I have a type, he guesses. Before he can look up, Sarah reaches across the space on the couch and touches his shoulder.

“I think,” Sarah starts. “That you know what you’re ready for before me, or your therapist, or anyone else. I’d love to see you start dating again, but I know that it’s not easy. So, given that, if you don’t want me to tease you about this, I get it.” 

Sam appreciates her, especially saying this. He knows Sarah isn’t doing it because he’s the guy whose boyfriend died, but because she knows exactly how hard losing Riley was for Sam. She was there from the beginning, picked him up when no one else would.

“Well,” Sam shrugs. “I guess I was sort of asking for something like this to happen eventually, right? Shop full of Rileys?” Sarah snickers at him.

*

When Sam finally gets home from Sarah’s, it’s nearly two in the morning.

He thinks about Riley from the shop as he gets ready for bed, ignoring the jacket with the phone number hung up on his coat rack, trying to analyze himself. Riley died a year and seven months ago, and Sam can’t help but think about what Sarah had said: Is anyone ever really ready?

And, of course, Sam thinks about his Riley, like he often does. He thinks about walking hand in hand with Riley at the Christmas festival in the town they’d lived in, their breath coming out in puffs that showed up against the cold. He thinks about Riley laughing as Sam fell down as they ice skated, kissing him when Sam got grumpy about it. 

He thinks about the night he’d asked Riley to marry him, summery and green. And he thinks about the way they’d curled up together in bed that night, whispering about a future that would never happen. As always, the memories tug at Sam’s chest and poke and prod at his healing heart. But, they’re also so happy.

He wants to be happy like that again. He doesn’t know if it’s possible, but he thinks he has to try. 

He doesn’t think before moving back toward his kitchen, digging into the pocket of his jacket. He’s going to text him, damn how late it is. Maybe fate isn’t real, or maybe it is. Sam hasn’t decided yet.

He continues digging through the pocket. And the other. In each one, Sam finds it entirely empty. There are gum wrappers and spare cash, but the slip of paper with the phone number on it is nowhere to be found. 

Sam sighs. So, maybe fate is real. Losing the phone number may just be the universe telling Sam that it won’t go well, that he’s not ready. Sam knows that he doesn’t really believe that, if he’s entirely honest. But, what other explanation is there? 

He can be ready another day.

*

Sam’s back at work on Monday. When he gets in, he can’t help checking the tip jar to see if maybe he’d left Riley’s number behind, but no such luck. He doesn’t dwell on it for long, instead busying himself with typical operations of the shop. He spends most of the slow morning arranging a bouquet to display in the window. 

He wouldn’t call himself made for the flower business, if he’s really honest. He doesn’t think his bouquets are really anything special, but he’s got an eye for color and it’s soothing. When he’d first gotten home and was still dealing with Riley’s death fresh, his therapist had suggested he pick up a hobby that reminded him he was still capable of gentleness. He’d tried a lot of things, but taking care of flowers in this way ended up being perfect, in hindsight. 

The day passes slowly and without much of note; Riley Nickolson comes at midday and picks out a daisy from Sam’s collection, leaving a tip despite her flower being free. Sam has an entirely ordinary workday, selling roses and lilies and everything in between. Sam nearly entirely forgets about Riley after that, busy with sales.

When he finally closes up, the sun is just starting to set. He takes his time counting the cash in the register and filling the water on all the flowers he has in the display room. It’s cool and wet to keep the flowers from wilting, and it sort of feels like a refrigerator. Sam likes it. 

When all’s said and done, he locks the front door, puts on his coat, and starts walking in the direction of where his car is parked. He always parks a few blocks down, to avoid the expensive meters and instead favors a parking garage around the corner. He walks with the bitter cold January air in his face, stinging his ears and his eyes.

There aren’t a lot of people out at this time and this temperature, except for someone Sam can see walking from the other direction. He doesn’t pay much attention to him until he notices how tall the guy is. And how big.

And Sam realizes, in sudden horror, that its Riley. Sam wants to disappear into the pavement at this moment, mortified. Riley seems to be preoccupied with his phone in his hand, and Sam tries hard to stare anywhere but at Riley. It’s awkward enough Sam never texted him or called, but seeing each other on the street again? No way. No fucking way.

Sam can see the garage now, on his right and only a few hundred feet away. Maybe he can make it there before Riley does, and he won’t even have to worry about an awkward smile in passing. Of course, this hope is dashed when--

“Well, well, well!” Riley calls from ahead. “Sam! Hey!”

Sam smiles back at him, trying not to look entirely nervous and rigid. “Hey, Riley!”

Riley jogs forward and when he looks Sam up and down, looks sort of disappointed. “Damn. You closed up for the night?”

Sam nods. “Yep. We usually close at six on weekdays.”

“That’s too bad,” Riley crosses his arms. “I was actually on my way there now...I’m convinced flowers make the perfect gift.”

Sam stands on the curb dumbstruck, unsure what to say. Sorry, that stinks? It seems like a dead end. He just shrugs. “Sorry.”

“Hey,” Riley says like he’s just had an idea. “You want to get coffee sometime?”

Sam’s surprised. “You want to get coffee after I ignored your phone number?”

Riley’s shoulders slump. “When you say it like that…”

Sam’s eyes widen. “Oh my god. No. I’m sorry, no. I’d love to, I just...I lost the number.”

“So what you’re saying is…” Riley rocks back on his feet. “Yes to the coffee?”

Sam smiles a little. “Yeah, I’d love that.”

*

Before he’d opened his shop, Sam had needed a hobby. He tried a lot of things; sports, writing, reading, but none of them really helped. Instead, he’d found his way inside his local VA, and before he knew it he was volunteering with as much as he could, which ended up becoming counseling services. Sam, of course, was no psychologist, but he was compassionate and was good at being gentle with men and women hardened by war. 

He’s volunteered there for a year and three months before the shop got off the ground, and he credited the job to doing a number on his own recovery. His therapist had encouraged him to discover what type of things helped him heal, and after working at the VA, he had his answer: helping others.

Working at the VA came with its own perks outside of recovery, of course. Sam had gotten to be good friends with a lot of the other regular volunteers, venting in break rooms and hanging out outside of work sometimes. There were a lot of them, but Sam was closest to a few of them; There was Jamie Rhodes, though he preferred to be called Rhodey. He’s been in the Air Force too, though Sam had never known him. There was Clint too, who didn’t talk much about his past but was bubbly and ran entirely on coffee. He had a service dog that he’d bring in for some of the patients who weren’t quite ready to talk to a person about their experiences. And of course, there was Natasha.

Natasha was probably Sam’s closest friend in the world behind his sister. Natasha and Sam had met after she’d nearly socked him in the face after he’d startled her. Following the immediate surprise, she’d apologized and explained, a little gruffly, that he should probably think about sneaking around in a building full of PTSD ridden vets. Sam had loved her immediately.

Nowadays, Natasha still works with the VA, but Sam moving jobs means they see each other quite a bit less. However, that doesn’t stop them from trying to meet up as often as possible. They run together when it works out. Today is one of those days.

Natasha has much more stamina than Sam, which is sort of crazy considering he never skips his morning run. Sam supposes Natasha was built for this, her long legs and nimble body. She runs like she’s a bird, flying free and without any rules. Natasha had confided to Sam once that she’d taken up running as an actual hobby after coming home, somewhere to channel all the negative emotions. Sam thinks she’s done an awesome job with that.

When they finally slow down, it’s by Sam’s hand. He doubles over, catching his breath. Natasha is a few feet ahead, so she jogs backward and stops beside him. Even she is breathing hard, sweating at her temples. She grins.

“Too much for you, old man?” Sam shoots her a glare, which only serves to make her laugh harder. “We can finish here. We’ve run five miles today.”

“Wow,” Sam breathes out, feigning shock. “Only five miles? What are we, toddlers?” 

Natasha laughs again, rubbing Sam’s back as he recovers from the run. His lungs burn and his legs feel like jelly, but he knows that it will soon fade to the familiar feeling of lightness that comes with running. He finds himself sitting down in the grass beside them, next to where Natasha has sprawled herself out. 

“What’s new, Wilson?” Nat asks, rolling on her side to face him. Sam smiles back at her, noticing the way her signature red hair is fanned out beneath her. He considers telling her about Riley and the date, but he isn’t sure if he wants to have a serious conversation right now.

“Oh, you know,” He shrugs. “Flowers. Helping Sarah wrangle Jody. That kind of thing. How about you?”

Natasha presses her lips together. “I actually got a new roommate. One of my friends from high school is living here for the summer, I guess he wanted a change of pace. He was working as an artist in New York, but he feels like a change of scenery helps, I guess. Also...he’s broke. So he’s trying to get work.” Natasha shrugs when she says it, but Sam can tell she’s happy about it.

“That’s awesome, Nat.” Sam doesn’t actually know a lot about Natasha’s life before he knew her, and he thinks she likes it that way. “What’s his name?”

“Steve,” Nat replies. “He’s sort of a big oaf. I love him, though. And his art is amazing. I have to admit, it’s sort of weird living with an artist. I mean, the other day, I was eating breakfast while he was at the kitchen table, and when he left the room, there were drawings of me all over his napkin. Not looking my best, I might add.”

Sam laughs at that. “Sounds like you’re his muse.”

“If by muse you mean figure practice, sure.” She takes a swig from her water bottle, then sits up. “Speaking of...”

Sam groans. “If he wants people to pose nude or something, the answer is no. Empathetically. Been there, done that. It’s not as interesting as films make it seem. Mostly it’s just cold.” Natasha barks out a laugh when he says that, like he’s suggested the most outlandish thing in the world.

“No, no,” She motions with her hands through giggles. “I was going to invite you to Sharon’s birthday party next Friday.” 

Sharon is Natasha’s girlfriend, and Sam admittedly doesn’t know her well. She’s just as intimidating as Natasha is, blonde and tall. She works for the government and is pretty secretive, but Natasha has assured Sam that she likes him and thinks he’s funny. Sam appreciates it. 

“I can’t say no, even if I wanted to,” Sam says, smiling at her. It’s true. Natasha knows better than anyone that Sam really doesn’t have a life. 

“Exactly,” Nat nods. “So you’re coming?”

“Well,” Sam shrugs. “I wouldn’t want nobody to show up.” There’s a sparkle in his eye when he says that, joking along with Natasha. She’s got more friends than anyone he knows. He’s sure half the town will be there.

Natasha puts a hand over her wounded heart, feigning gratitude. “What would I do without people like you to protect my reputation?”

*

Sam gets home later than he wants to. He has a lot of work to do, despite it being his day off. He works from home sometimes when he needs to communicate by email with larger orders that he needs to ship. He’s providing flowers for a wedding in two weeks, and even though everything is going according to plan, the customers are always anxious about everything going off without a hitch. Though Sam arranges bouquets in the window in his free time, he considers it more of a hobby. Sam’s other employee Bucky does the professional flower arrangements for the shop, and he’s been working closely with the bride so the flowers look exactly how she wants. Sam, however, has to deal with the emailing side of everything.

After a while of working, Sam decides to take a break and make himself lunch. Once he’s eaten and feels more refreshed, he scrolls through his phone. Sometimes, Sam thinks mind-numbing social media is the only way to successfully get him to disconnect from work. 

Sarah texts him in the middle of his tirade, asking if Sam has a photo of Jody from Halloween a couple of years back. She’s trying to frame the photo but has apparently lost it herself. Sam is somewhat of a hoarder himself when it comes to photos. Sam can’t remember the last time he’s deleted anything. He just opts for more and more storage instead.

He scrolls for what seems like forever, and finally finds the picture of Jody that Sarah’s asking for. It’s from two years ago, when Jody was a little shorter and a little rounder, her face drawn on with black eyeliner to create whiskers. She’s wearing all black to compliment the cattail and headband she’s wearing that are the same color. It’s a simple costume, but so cute. 

Sam remembers that Halloween. They’d met at Sarah’s to have dinner together, though it wasn’t long before Jody was vibrating in her seat asking to go trick or treating. And of course, Sarah had made the deal with Sam: she cooks dinner, he takes Jody trick-or-treating.

And so, that’s what they’d done. 

Sam hasn’t looked through these photos in awhile. It’s, all in all, a happy memory. It’s just.

Riley had been there, of course.

They’d both dressed up in cat costumes like Jody had, upon her own request. Sam scrolls to the next photo and it makes his heart leap, a photo Sarah had taken of Riley and Sam together on the sidewalk while Jody held up a pillowcase of candy, smiling bright and happy. Riley’s hand is on Sam’s waist, pulling him in. Sam can still feel his hand there.

He keeps scrolling, unable to restrain himself from it now. The next photos are blurry and less posed, one where Riley is laughing at something Jody is saying, another where Sam is kissing him on the cheek.

Sam doesn’t cry at the sight, but he can’t stop the way his chest tugs at itself, pressing him to break down. It’s been so long since Riley had died, the pain has become a dormant ache that only really hurts when Sam lets himself dwell on it. As time passes, Sam knows that he’s getting better with the hurt.

But as he looks through the photos, he feels guilty. He feels guilty that Riley is becoming a chapter in his story instead of an overarching theme, a recurring flame that never seems to die out. And of course, Sam thinks about the date he’d just made, and wonders suddenly if he should cancel. How can he do this?

He looks back at the photos, Sam’s lips on Riley’s smiling face; He thinks about the hundreds of dates they’d gone on together, everything from fancy dinners to pizza and movies. Those are things he’d planned to do with Riley, exclusively, for the rest of his life.

Is it a betrayal to start dating again? Some part of Sam tells him that’s ridiculous, but another part of him reaffirms the thought, scolding him for even considering he should move on. Sam knows that losing your significant other prevents a lot of people from dating. He knows, rationally, he is not the first person to have this issue. 

It’s just...sometimes Sam still struggles with the guilt. He wonders why it had to be Riley.

*

On Tuesday nights, Sam and Sarah always plan to hang out. It was a tradition they’d retained from college, something that happened almost without fail. Of course, after they’d gotten older and Sarah had Jody, they’d resigned themselves to working time into the routines. Sometimes, that would mean Sam would come over and help with dinner while Sarah tried to finish her homework when she was in graduate school. Tonight, it means that Sarah comes along with Sam while he gets the grocery shopping done and then goes to dinner with him.

While they are sitting at the dinner table, Sarah rambles on about the week: Jody’s parent-teacher conferences, work, and a funny story about their neighbor accidentally throwing his phone into the bathtub. Sam laughs, listens as she gushes about how smart Jody is.

“How about you?” She asks, waggling her eyebrows. “Any news about mystery man?”

Sam’s stomach twists in discomfort and guilt. He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. He knows that he doesn’t fool Sarah at all with the move, so he waits for her to stick her foot in the door. Surprisingly, she doesn’t. Instead, she waits.

“We’re going on a date,” Sam tells her, leaving out the part where he lost the phone number and had to meet him in the street to actually get the guy’s number. “It’s just…”

Sam looks up at her, and upon seeing her face, sighs. He thinks about how to articulate the experience he’d had earlier in the week. He thinks about, not for the first time, the life he’d planned with Riley. About how if he was alive, he’d be here.

“Do you remember the Halloween after Riley and I got engaged?” Sam asks her, pushing the food on his plate around with a fork. Sarah’s face breaks out into a soft smile, followed by a laugh.

“‘Course I remember that. Jody dressed as a cat, right? And Riley volunteered to take Jody around the neighborhood so I could get some reading done, right?” Sam nods. Sarah keeps going. “I just remember how after you guys got home, you wanted to try that prank we’d been seeing on Kimmel where parents tell their kids they ate all their candy. But Riley saw how happy Jody was about it all, and he wouldn’t let it happen. We thought he was a party pooper. But the next day, Jody shared the candy with all of us. And Riley--he just looked at us like it proved something.”

Sam knows he’s getting choked up, and he doesn’t really know what to say. He does remember that. Riley was always the type of guy to take the moral high ground, but he was loose and knew how to have fun. Sam always went for that type, but Riley somehow surpassed the stereotype. He can hardly breathe around the absence sometimes, missing the wild streak in his life.

“I just don’t know how to love someone that isn’t him,” Sam admits. “I don’t know how to look at someone with the same hope for the future I did with Riley. I don’t know how to share things with someone else like that. It’s this line I feel like I’m cursed to walk forever.”

Sarah presses her lips together and thinks for a long time, and finally quirks a smile and says, “It probably doesn’t help they share a name.” They laugh a little at that, and a beat of silence follows. Finally, Sarah reaches across and holds Sam’s hand. “Maybe you don’t have to feel the same way about someone. I mean...he was special and a huge part of your life. You don’t need someone to replace him.”

Sam has heard this type of thing before from therapists and friends but lets Sarah talk anyway.

“Look, here the thing. Dating is always gonna be hard. But I think that if you could fall in love with Riley even after dad died and you’d seen a million terrible things, I think that you have some sort of capacity to love things despite it all. And I think you have a big heart. I think you love Jody as much as I do, you love every customer that comes into your shop, you love all those people you helped at the VA. Your heart is huge. And I think that if you wanted to date a hundred different men, you could love them all fully and differently.”

Sam tries to swallow the lump in his throat. He wants to ask, Do you think Riley would be disappointed in me? But, there’s no reason to ask. He knows the answer. So instead, he squeezes Sarah’s hand in response. That’s the only conversation they have about the date, and it doesn’t fully convince Sam that he’s ready yet. He has to decide on his own, he knows.

*

Sam’s a mess. Naturally.

This is his first date since...Sam doesn’t date anymore. 

They’re supposed to meet for coffee at five-thirty. It’s five, and Sam still doesn’t know what he’s doing. He doesn’t know how to dress, if he should offer to pick Riley up, doesn’t know who’s paying for this. He knows it’s too late to back out, which is honestly good considering he probably would have by now, if he could.

By the time he gets into his car, he’s settled on casual clothes and opts to stick with their original plan of meeting at the coffee place. He sits in the front seat for a moment with his key in the ignition, thinking about what Sarah said about loving someone new. He reminds himself that this doesn’t have to be the next great love in his life. It’s just a date. It doesn’t have to be more than a date.

Sam starts the car and makes the drive to the place Riley had suggested. When he pulls up to the meter to park at, Riley is already there. He’s standing in front of the glass windows, heartbreakingly handsome. His hair is tousled from the wind, his windbreaker zipped up to his throat to protect from any weather. Not to mention his flushed cheeks and that smile, Jesus Christ.

Sam steels himself. Then he gets out of the car. 

“Hey!” Sam calls jogging over to where Riley is standing. For a moment, he doesn’t know how to greet him. Is it inappropriate to shake your date’s hand? Of course, he doesn’t deliberate for long before Riley pulls a lopsided grin.

“Hey yourself.” He moves forward for a second, but stops himself. “You care if I hug you?”

“No!” Sam replies quickly. “No, of course not. Good to see you.” It’s Sam this time who pulls Riley into a hug, a little awkwardly because he’s physically much smaller than Riley is, but still warm. It doesn’t last as long as he wants it to. When they pull apart, there’s a beat of silence accompanied by Sam’s stupid grin. Riley mirrors him.

“Um,” Riley says finally, scratching the back of his neck. “So...coffee?” Sam laughs. 

*

They step out into the crisp autumn air after they’re finished, shoulders brushing. Sam suddenly feels a tug at his chest at the date ending, wants to savor it for as long as possible. Riley seems to linger a little too, standing firmly in place on the sidewalk making small talk with Sam instead of saying goodbye.

Finally, Sam says, “It’s such a nice evening. Do you want to just walk around for a little while?” He nods his head toward the park across the street, and Riley’s bright smile returns in response.

“Absolutely.” He replies.

They cross the street, and before Sam can overanalyze the continued brushing of their shoulders, Riley reaches across and takes Sam’s hand into his own. Sam can’t help but smile at the touch. It’s been a while since he’s felt like this, even with something as innocent as holding hands. It’s like someone has lit a flame in his stomach and chest, small but warm enough to lick his insides all over. 

They walk down the pathway that’s normally used for joggers and people walking their dogs. Riley is talking about his childhood and how he once broke his arm falling out of a tall pine tree, and when Sam laughs, Riley sneaks a glance at him before rolling his eyes. 

“I’m sure your mother loved that,” Sam says, a toothy smile still on his face. “I mean, you sound like sort of a clumsy kid.”

Riley shrugs, then runs his free hand through his blond hair. “My mom actually wasn’t around. She died when I was a kid, her sister raised me instead. But yeah, my aunt loved it. Lectured me in front of the doctors and everything.”

Sam looks over at him, and sees his happy bright face has turned more solemn. “Sorry about your mom.”

They don’t talk for awhile after this, just walking down the pathway and through the orange leaves on the ground. Sam doesn’t let go of Riley’s hand, and Riley doesn’t seem to want him to. Instead, they linger in the silence. Sam suddenly has the urge to talk about his Riley, and a voice in the back of his head that sounds a lot like Sarah tells him not to talk about his dead ex right now. 

But then Sam decides, fuck that. Riley was a huge part of his life--no sense in keeping him out of the conversation. He starts to say something, but Riley does too. Just when Sam opens his mouth, Riley says, “Can I tell you something?” He blushes when Sam tries at the same time.

“Tell me what?” Sam asks.

“No,” Riley shakes his head. “You go first.”

“Okay. So...my fiancé actually passed a while ago,” Sam says into the silence. “There was an accident. It was really hard for me. I don’t really know how to move on, you know?”

Riley nods. “But, hey. Look at you! You’re dating--that’s a step, yeah?”

“I’ll admit it,” Sam shakes his head. “This is my first date since the accident.”

Riley smiles a little with a tug of his mouth, his hand still firmly holding Sam’s. “Do you wanna tell me about him?”

Sam shrugs. “Do you want to hear about him?” Riley just nods, so Sam takes a deep breath. “He laughed with his head thrown back. He loved cats and was terrified of dogs. And he grumbled and complained every single time he got up in the morning. He couldn’t cook--and he didn’t even bother to learn. And he loved me, so much. He told me all the time.”

Riley’s face softens listening to Sam talk, and Sam realizes they’ve stopped walking. Sam’s now fully aware than Riley is so much taller than him, huge and towering but somehow still so soft and comfortable. And Sam realizes he really, really wants to kiss him. 

Sam tilts his chin up, and Riley gets the message. They move a step closer, and Riley rests his free hand on the small of Sam’s back. Sam nearly closes his eyes to kiss him, but before he can Riley talks again.

“What was his name?”

Sam smiles sheepishly, looking at their feet. This one is going to be sort of embarrassing. “Okay, listen. His name was Riley.” And when Riley’s face blanches, Sam stumbles to explain. “The whole ‘free flower if your name is Riley’ thing was my sister’s idea, okay. I’ve been doing it since the whole thing happened. So before you complain that I didn’t do it to draw you in, that’s why.”

Riley smiles back at Sam, weak and his face still pale. He steps back. Sam notices that his hand feels empty. 

“That’s really cool.” Riley says to Sam, trying to seem genuine. Sam doesn’t know what he did wrong...suddenly he feels stupid for bringing any of this up. Who wants to hear about someone’s dead fiancé on their first date?

“Thanks,” Sam says shortly. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks over at Riley. “What did you want to tell me?”

Riley rocks back on his heels. “I was gonna say that we should probably get going--it’s sort of late.”

“Right.” Sam feels himself deflate a little. “Yeah, okay.”

They walk back to their cars, and they don’t hold hands. They make small talk about the weather and the jogging trail, but Sam can’t help but feel like he’s done something wrong. When they finally get to Sam’s care, Riley doesn’t try and kiss him. He hugs him and waves goodbye instead, leaving Sam alone on the curb.

*

Sam sends Riley a text when he gets home, thanking him for the coffee and the walk. Riley responds when a smiley face emoji. Sam calls Sarah immediately.

“Smiley emoji?” Sarah clicks her tongue. “Jesus, Sam. What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Sam exclaims, defensive. “No, it was going well. We went on a walk. He held my hand. He almost kissed me.”

“Maybe he got turned off about having the same name as your ex?”

Sam sits down on the end of his bed, rubbing a hand across his face. “I mean. I guess.”

“Hey,” Sarah says into the phone, her voice softer. “You went on the date. That’s enough. I’m proud of you.”

*

The next morning, Sam wakes up to nothing from Riley. He feels sort of broken up about it, but tries to move on. It’s one date. One date.

He’d just...worked up a lot for this. He had felt something during the date, had loved holding someone’s hand again and getting butterflies. Still, sometimes things just don’t work out.

He has things to do today. Business calls, and Natasha’s still throwing a party for her girlfriend’s birthday. Sam knows he should go, and he wants to, but he also still feels sort of jarred about the whole date thing. He assumes that it’s normal considering it’s his first date in two years.

Sam gets ready, runs errands, and spends the entire day thinking about the date. He can’t say he’s not looking at his phone for any messages from Riley, despite telling himself not to. 

Natasha texts around three asking Sam if he’s planning on coming to the party. He tells her yes, and once he’s done that there’s no backing out. Sam actually loves going to Nat’s parties, all things considered. She’s got loads of friends, and so does Sharon. It’s always fun and Natasha always invites their VA friends. 

So, he’s going. He’ll bring wine, get tipsy, and have fun. Who cares about bad dates? They happen.

Sam picks up some wine at the liquor store and heads to Natasha’s around 6. He’s a little late, but figures it won’t matter much anyway because Natasha’s not the most punctual person herself. When he knocks on the door, he’s hardly surprised to see that the apartment is already alight with people, laughing and musical.

“Sam!” Natasha beams when she opens the door and hugs him. “Thanks for bringing this.”

Sam shrugs once they pull away, handing Natasha the bottle. “No problem.”

Before Sam can say anything else, Natasha’s girlfriend Sharon comes from behind and grabs her free hand, pulling her toward the center of the room. Her eyes shine at the touch, a smile creeping onto her painted red lips. Sam watches as she’s whisked away, and stands in the entryway for a moment before coming to.

When he snaps out of it, Sam finds himself surveying the liquor almost immediately. His wine isn’t the only alcohol here, but Sam knows he doesn’t really want to drink himself into oblivion tonight (though the thought sounds somewhat nice). 

He takes one drink and decides to nurse one or two throughout the night. Before he gets far, he’s engrossed in conversation with his friend Carol, someone he used to work with at the VA. She’s still working there, and Sam has to admit he’s impressed.

His conversation with Carol doesn’t last long before he sees someone else across the room. He’s drinking the same drink as Sam, unmistakably tall and built. Sam nearly melts into the floorboards, and as soon as Carol gets lost in the crowd again he immediately heads in the opposite direction.

He finds Natasha’s bathroom and locks himself inside as soon as he closes the door. He has no plan for this, but he doesn’t really feel like running into Riley right now. How does he know Natasha? Or maybe he knows Sharon? She’s always been the athletic, adrenaline junkie type. It would make sense. God, why do all gay people have to know each other?

Sam has no plan for how long he’ll be here. He sits on the edge of the bathtub, contemplating his options. He could leave, but feels bad ditching after Natasha had asked him to come. Not to mention the fact that he still sort of likes Riley, and has been thinking about him all day. But he also can’t think of anything he wants to do less than have an awkward, drunk conversation with him.

So, he finds himself taking his time in the bathroom. After a while, someone is knocking on the door and Sam knows he can’t stay much longer. He finally unlocks the door, and makes his way back into the crowd. He tries to go unnoticed, but so many people he knows are here and keep stopping him. 

Natasha catches his eye from across the room, and she’s by his side before anyone else can snatch him up. “Sam!” She says over the music, smiling. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, just...got an important phone call.”

“Well,” Natasha shakes her head. She’s definitely a little drunk. “I have someone I’ve been meaning to introduce you to!” 

Before Sam can respond, he’s being led through a crowd of people. “Who?” He asks her. She looks over her shoulder at him.

“My roommate! He’s totally your type--I’m serious. Trust me.”

And then Sam sees him, talking to Sharon by the balcony doors. Sam almost stops in his tracks, immediately feeling his face heat up. Riley hasn’t noticed him yet, and now there’s no avoiding the awkward interaction Sam’s been avoiding. He feels like sinking into the floor.

“Hey, guys!” Nat calls, and it gets Sharon and Riley’s attention finally. When Riley sees Sam, his eyes widen for a split second before melting into one of his handsome smiles. Sam holds his breath. Riley still looks incredibly nervous. “I’ve been meaning to introduce you guys.”

“Sam, this is my roommate Steve.” She gestures right to Riley.

Sam suddenly feels any effect the alcohol has on him come to a halt. Sam finds himself confused, and Riley--Steve--looks even mortified. Sam breaks his grip on Natasha, looking between them both. No one has said anything.

Steve clears his throat. “We’ve met, actually.”

It suddenly clicks in Sam’s mind. Oh, He thinks. This explains it. He thinks back on the conversation on the running path, the way he’d wanted to tell Sam something. Sam realizes that maybe when Sam had mentioned the real reason he’d been giving out flowers to guys named Riley, Steve felt terrible about lying.

Sam almost wants to laugh, because it’s all been an elaborate scheme to get Sam’s phone number. Not that it’s not a little annoying, but Sam thinks he can look past it.

“Actually,” Sam says over the music. “Nat, can you excuse us for a second? I have to talk to Steve about something.”

Natasha seems to have caught onto something, but she doesn’t know what. She narrows her eyes, looking between the two of them. Steve is bright red, a blush crawling up his neck. Sam thinks it’s sort of funny to see him flustered like this. Finally, Natasha concedes.

“Behave, kids.” She retorts, before getting sucked back into the crowd.

“Listen,” Steve starts as soon as Sam crosses his arms. “I swear to God, I was going to tell you. I really was. I’ve been...trying to find a way. I had no idea you and Natasha even knew each other.”

“When she mentioned her artistic roommate,” Sam sighs. “I had no idea she meant the guy who asked me for coffee.”

Steve runs a hang across his face. “I’m so sorry. I really am. If I had known who Riley was, I’d have kept my mouth shut. Oh my god. I’m so sorry. Seriously. I hate myself.”

Sam’s holding back a laugh, but still manages to maintain some seriousness to his voice. “So you ghosted me because you realized you’d lied about your name for so long that you hadn’t even realized why I give out free flowers to Rileys?” 

Steve’s shoulders slump forward. “It’s pathetic, but yeah.”

Sam laughs out loud now, long and almost hysterical. He’s not mad; he can’t be if he wanted to. Riley himself would have been laughing alongside him at the ridiculousness of it all. He’d probably understand, poke Sam in the ribs and tell him that he wasn’t surprised someone had gone to great lengths to woo him. Riley would have done worse.

Steve lets himself crack a grin, but clearly can’t tell whether Sam is happy or sad. Finally, Sam just shakes his head. “Let’s dance.” And he pulls him by the arm. 

*

Later, when the night cools off and the crowd thins out, Steve and Sam find themselves sitting on the balcony of Natasha (and, as Sam has learned, Steve’s) apartment, drunker than they both care to admit. They’re laughing, knees touching, talking about something Sam won’t remember the next day. Finally, Sam leans back against the window.

“So,” Sam lets a grin curl onto his face. “I’ve got a real question for you.”

Steve sits up straight. “Fire away.”

“Be honest.”

“Okay.”

“Were you going to kiss me last night?” Sam’s voice softens on the words, and Steve immediately turns red at his ears. Sam takes note of that in his head of course. Steve seems to blush pretty easy when someone flirts with him.

Steve doesn’t answer right away, just leans back in his chair. They haven’t really flirted all night, haven’t even held hands or danced slow. It’s just been friendly. “If I say yes, you’re not gonna ditch me, are you?”

Sam shrugs. “No. But I’d still like to know.”

Steve grins a little. “I wanted to.”

“Do you want to now?”

“Yeah.”

Sam smiles wider now, showing his teeth. He stands up from his chair. “As much as Natasha would enjoy that, I think that since you curved me, I’ll have to see you tomorrow instead. You working? You should come into my shop.”

Steve looks a little disappointed. “And if I do?”

Sam laughs, throwing on his jacket. “I like some suspense.”

*

Sam, of course, has no real plan. Sarah, of course, gives him advice as soon as she receives a phone call from Sam, slightly drunk, already stressed. And of course, her idea is good. Definitely better than Sam could have planned himself.

And so, the next day rolls around. Sam opens the shop like normal, with a little tweak to the outside of the shop. It still brings in customers, and Sam spends all day watching the door like a mad man. He knows Steve will come, and he waits patiently for the bell on the door to ring. 

When it does, Steve walks in with a little grin on his face. Sam can’t help but want to kiss it right off of him. “Hey, stranger.”

Steve motions to the outside. “Free flower if your name is Steve, huh?”

Sam shrugs, leaning against the counter. “Can I see your ID first? Just to make sure your name is actually Steve.”

Steve throws his head back, laughing, but obliges. When Sam finally finishes checking his identity, he lets out a sigh. “Oh man. I completely forgot.”

Steve actually seems alarmed. “What?”

“We’re out of flowers.”

It’s an obvious lie. They’re surrounded by them. But Steve gets it. “You got anything else?”

Sam leans forward over the counter on his elbows. “I don’t think so. Unless you have any ideas?”

Steve shakes his head, laughing. He nearly hops over the counter. “Just fucking kiss me.”

Sam smiles wider now, but he has no problem filling the request.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter @rebeipoe


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